


Turn Back Time

by ArturisNebula



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Boys Kissing, Domestic, Eventual Happy Ending, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Just bois dealing with some hard stuff together, Karl POV, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Soulmates, Slow Burn, Soulmate AU, Soulmate au as in they're soulmates in every life/timeline, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:29:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29703363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArturisNebula/pseuds/ArturisNebula
Summary: The Karlnap Soulmate AU nobody asked for.--He pulls his eyes from the floor to rest upon the stranger’s, trying to match his analytical confidence. They’re a piercing blue, creased with light stripes that border on white. Reminiscent of a cracked mirror set to reflect deep snow, or of a frozen lake that someone tried skating on, but gave up after a few loops because it didn’t seem quite thick enough.Karl feels like he’s seen those eyes before, but he can’t quite place them, shrugging it off as misplaced deja vu.--Inspired by "Turn Back Time" by Derivakat
Relationships: Karl Jacobs/Sapnap
Comments: 3
Kudos: 32





	Turn Back Time

The first time Karl’s eyes catch on him it’s from a distance. The figure’s barely a speck across Sir Billiam’s grand foyer, the blacks and whites he’s wearing contrasting heavily with the warm, autumnal tones the room seems to be themed around. The man loiters just outside the door, running a nervous hand through his silken hair.

“Over here! Hello!” The words barrel out of Karl’s mouth before he can stop them.

Karl’s exclamations seem to spur the man into action. He takes a timid first step over the threshold, gingerly placing a well-worn leather boot onto the carpeting before seemingly regaining his confidence in an instant and striding quickly over to Lord Sebastian, Sir Billiam, and Karl. He stops for a moment in front of Lord Sebastian and Sir Billiam, but ignores their greetings, immediately shifting to stand in front of Karl. 

He tilts his head to the side, skimming his eyes up and down Karl’s form. Karl feels warmth blooming beneath the heavy sleeves of his patchwork jacket under the stranger’s heavy gaze, and would bet anything that pale petals are twisting up his neck in uneven spatterings. 

He pulls his eyes from the floor to rest upon the stranger’s, trying to match his analytical confidence. They’re a piercing blue, creased with light stripes that border on white. Reminiscent of a cracked mirror set to reflect deep snow, or of a frozen lake that someone tried skating on, but gave up after a few loops because it didn’t seem quite thick enough. 

Karl feels like he’s seen those eyes before, but he can’t quite place them, shrugging it off as misplaced deja vu.

He notices the edge of the man’s mouth that isn’t covered by his ornate, white, feathered mask quirk up as he registers that Karl is readily meeting his gaze.

Karl, on the other hand, grows more self conscious the longer he looks at the man’s expensive outfit. He tugs at the basic, lavender mask Sir Billiam had loaned him, suddenly feeling extremely out of place in his plain attire. 

The man sticks out his hand, and Karl immediately takes it, feeling the man’s rough palm slide easily against his. The firm handshake grounds Karl, allowing his mind to quiet and narrow until his sole thoughts are of the beautiful stranger standing in front of him.

“Hello, I’m James.” The man lets his small, almost private smile morph into an easy-going grin.

Before Karl can respond, Sir Billiam cuts in. “Ah, James. It’s good to see you again!” 

James releases Karl’s hand almost reluctantly, warm grip lingering just a moment longer than necessary. His face drops slightly, and he folds his mouth into a careful line as he turns to face Sir Billiam. 

“Hello,” James nods, casually hooking his right thumb into the pocket of his fitted, dark brown pants.

“My old friend!” Sir Billiam continues, oblivious to James’ clear annoyance at his interruption. “How’s the business?”

James flicks his head slightly to the side, giving Karl a wink that’s so fast that his mind has to freeze, carefully peeling each second that follows away like stubborn coats of paint, to replay and confirm that James’ right eye did, in fact, open and close briefly. 

James’ focus returns to Sir Billiam before flitting down to the ornate rug. He twists the toe of his boot back and forth as he speaks, creating a small divot in the fibers: a crop circle marring the luscious expanse of red carpet. He begins to stutter out an answer, but quickly trails off.

Sir Billiam, either sensing James’ reluctance to speak on the subject, or just wanting to continue with the conversation, barges onwards. “How’s the wife?”

James’ shoulders sink a few centimeters. “Divorced.”

“The family?” Sir Billam asks, hopefully.

“Gone.”

“It’s very difficult to talk to you, James!” Sir Billiam exclaims. James sighs and toes at the carpet more aggressively. If Karl couldn’t see the slight smirk pushing up James’ cheek, he’d feel worse about the short burst of laughter that leaves his lips. 

James’ eyes dart over to Karl. They warn him to stay silent, to not crack the careful mirage James is weaving for Sir Billiam. 

“Do you- Do you have any alcohol?” James asks, tucking a stray strand of hair behind his ear. He leans closer to Sir Billiam towards the end of the question, as if he’s trying to be slightly subtle, but doesn’t care enough to go the full nine yards.

Sir Billiam nods, looking almost a little insulted that James has to even question that he doesn’t obviously have the finest spirits in the world on hand. “Oh, of course we have alcohol.” He pauses to inhale deeply before calling loudly for his butler.

A formally-clad figure appears next to Sir Billiam so quickly that Karl swears he must’ve teleported. He looks small, though it could also just be the way that he holds himself: arms tucked against him so tightly that they’re barely there, back hunched. His head is curled in, bowed to the point of barely being able to see his face, the few parts of which that may normally be visible obscured by the multicolored mask he’s sporting. 

The butler scurries over and hands James a glass half-full of a reddish alcohol that Karl assumes is some sort of wine. Karl’s eyes follow as James immediately brings the edge of it to his mouth, taking a long draft that paints his lips a dark crimson.

His gaze lowers after a moment, dripping down James’ chin and skittering across a billowing white shirt that has a diving v-neck, the golden lacing that would make it more of a conservative garment left loose instead of tightly tied as Karl assumes it’s meant to be. 

He catches a glimpse of James’ well-defined chest, and without thinking, he comments on it. “I like your- your clearly built body.” James chokes on his wine, coughing for a second. Karl tries to backtrack, realizing how forward he’s being. “Sorry- I know, uh, that I just met you but-”

James clears his throat, regarding Karl with surprise. “Remind me of your name?”

“I’m Karl.” Karl straightens, spine complaining from the quick shift in posture. “And you’re James, right?” 

“James, yeah.” He responds, voice softening slightly. “I… uh, I don’t know-” He pauses, pushing his shoulders back and widening his stance. “I’ve never had someone compliment my body before.”

“That’s surprising.” Karl feels the tips of his ears begin to flame.

James gives him that lopsided grin again and steps a little closer. “Why’s that?”

“Well, uh-” Karl starts. “You know.”

“Cause I’m just so handsome?” James teases, almost over-playfully, as if he’s trying to make sure Karl knows he’s joking and not conceited enough to actually be serious. 

Karl rolls his eyes, adjusting his mask to cover more of his cheeks in an attempt to hide the dusty blush that’s slowly becoming more prominent the longer he talks to James. He sees a flicker of amusement in James’ eyes, and sighs internally, mentally berating himself for failing to play this anywhere near cool. 

James holds out his drink to Karl in an invitation, the liquid shifting and spinning from side to side, disturbed by the sudden movement. “Want some?”

Karl shakes his head. “Uh, I’m good, thank you though.”

“You sure?” 

A faint voice in the back of Karl’s mind yells at him, telling him that he needs to snap out of it. Something’s going to happen here and he needs to pay attention in order to ink every last detail into the crisp pages of the diary waiting for him back home. It screams that he can’t waste time chasing after a random guy, no matter how cute he might be. But, then there’s his heart. His heart that’s telling him that this stranger, James, is important too. And maybe Karl’s been reading too many romance novels, and maybe it’s the wrong decision, but he twists the dial on his chest louder, mutes the voice crowding the back of his mind.

He curls his fingers around the widest part of the bowl-- above James’ ginger grip around the stem. He raises it, taking a sip that becomes three, and then he’s left staring absently at the few remaining droplets clouding the clear glass. It reminds him of blood, feels like a prophecy that he can’t translate. 

James says something that he should’ve heard, but didn’t, absorbed in wishing he’d paid more attention while reading about Trelawney’s lessons. “What did you say?” He asks, forcing his eyes to clear in order to draw the man in front of him back into focus.

James is smiling at him thoughtfully; biting his bottom lip and drawing his eyebrows together to the point of just barely peeking out through the eyeholes of his mask. “We haven’t met before, have we? You seem so familiar.”

“Uh, no. Not that I know of.” He holds out the now-empty glass, and fingers ghost across his knuckles as James takes it, scoring waves of butterflies in their wake.

“Huh,” James looks like he’s going to continue, but Lord Sebastian interrupts, calling out that there’s another guest at the door. 

More guests trickle in: a beautiful woman draped in a sparking gown named Lyaria. She speaks with a strange accent, softening vowels beyond what Karl’s heard before. An odd, mostly naked man named Drew arrives a little later, and causes quite the commotion. He inadvertently leads the guests on a tour of the grand mansion, excitedly dashing from room to room, commenting on anything he deems noteworthy in an almost incomprehensible southern drawl.

Sir Billiam fills them in on chunks of the house’s history as they’re made to trod up and down the staircase; pointing out first edition books, his favorite pieces of artwork. Naming each price a beat after every title as if they’re just as, if not more, important. 

After a half hour, Karl finds himself looking less at the walls - which he’s come to realize look very similar regardless of the room - and instead studying James’ face: running across his sharp cheekbones, spiralling down his long, messy hair, along each line of his full lips- above, below, between. He blushes each time James catches him staring, quickly moving his eyes away, repositioning his stance to make it seem like he was merely glancing about the room. 

When they finally move to the bar, James slips into the seat next to Karl before seemingly thinking better of it and hopping smoothly over the beautiful spruce counter, winking at Karl as he does so. 

James grabs a dark green bottle, hand curving delicately around the neck as he fills two glasses. He spins around, setting one in front of Karl, and balancing the other in his hand as he leans almost showily against the counter.

“Trust me, you’ll like it.” James encourages, smiling into a sip as if to prove his point. Karl eyes the way James’ fingers are positioned around the glass, fingers splayed around the base of the glass’s bowl, stem tucked carefully between his middle and ring finger. Karl arranges his hand to mirror James’ before lifting the glass carefully. He closes his eyes as the clear liquid hits the back of his throat, burning in a pleasant way. He nods appreciatively. He’s usually not big into alcohol, but this isn’t half-bad. “See?” James grins at him. “Pretty good.”

“Yeah.” Karl responds, setting the glass back down. He’s not sure what the drink is, but trusts this strangely charming man enough not to question it and ruin the magic of him somehow knowing exactly what Karl’d enjoy the taste of.

“So,” James places both of his forearms on the counter, lacing his fingers together casually. He leans a little closer to Karl, sleeves inching down to expose sturdy wrists. “Tell me about yourself. Who is Karl?”

“I’m not really sure. I’m just a normal guy, I guess.” Karl shrugs. 

James chuckles. “I have a feeling that’s not true. You seem the furthest thing from ordinary to me.” 

Karl takes another sip of his drink, trying to think of something interesting he can say. “I’m into design. And building. Where I’m from, I’m the Creative Head Director- or was the Creative Head Director. That’s what most people know me as.”

“Was?” 

Karl traces a hair-line fracture in the wood counter with his finger. “It’s kind of a long story.” 

“Long stories are the best type.” James encourages, clearly curious.

“Uh….” 

Memories slosh against the sides of Karl’s mind as he reaches out a hand out to feel for the rock whose innate understanding of gravity had triggered the lines of ripples that’d eventually led to the destruction of L’Manberg.  Faint, wavering images rush through his mind: Tweezing a splinter from his palm after constructing the Eiffel Tower, coaxing small shoots of bamboo to grow. Docks and ocean blurring together as firework after firework sliced into his back, drawing tears. Floating lanterns. Smoke. So much smoke. 

Karl blinks, feeling a warm weight on his arm. He looks up, finding James’ eyes pinned on his. He lets James’ soft gaze wrap around him and tugs it close, like a blanket. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“It’s just… It’s more complicated than I remembered and uh, there’s just a lot of stuff there? I wouldn’t know! Where to start! Or-”

“How about you just tell me about what you’ve designed more recently instead?” James offers, leaving his fingers wrapped loosely around Karl’s forearm. Karl can’t tell if it’s intentional, or if James’d just forgotten about moving it back, comfortable hooking his fingers against the soft fabric of Karl’s jacket.

“Mostly houses, though I haven’t been building as much as I’d like. I’ve been spending too much time on, uh, other things.” 

“ _ Other things _ . I see. A man of mystery.” James jokes. A sly look settles on his face like a stubborn, morning mist, and he leans closer to Karl, speaking lowly. “I like that.”

“Uh, me too!” Karl responds quickly, caught off-guard by the blatant flirting. He takes a breath before continuing, trying to recover from his less-than-smooth first reaction. “But not too much! Tell me about you.” 

James coughs, and Karl can tell that it was to hide a laugh. He’s sure it had no ill intent, hell, he’d’ve laughed if he wasn’t so nervous, but he still winces briefly, has to fight his head from ducking and burrowing itself into his arms.

“Well, you heard about some of the sadder aspects of my life earlier, though that all happened years ago. I was making it all seem far more dramatic and scarring to get out of talking to Billiam much, I’m more of a fan of his parties than I am of him. I’ve taken up sailing more recently, and captain a schooner a few towns over, transporting goods. Nothing all that riveting, but I love it. You should come along sometime, I’m sure you’d enjoy it, and it would be my pleasure to have you.”

Karl feels his heart drop at the offer, knowing that at most, he’ll have a day or so here. He rearranges his face into what he hopes is a genuine-looking smile. “That sounds awesome! I’d totally be down.” 

“Good.” James downs the rest of his drink, and waves the now-empty wine glass as if giving an absentminded toast. Small dashes of light dance across the side, likely from the sunlight pouring through the windows and the candles strewn about the room. Karl also notices the mirrored outline of a group of guests standing together. The cadence of their conversation worms its way into the back of his awareness as he’s reminded of their existence. “So,” James begins again. “How did you become acquainted with Bill?”

“Bill?”

James gestures at their extravagantly dressed host. Sir Billiam’s nose is wrinkled in slight disdain, and he’s sitting very stiffly next to Drew on the other end of the bar, mouth opening and closing in short bursts, as if he’s giving very curt answers. Drew, on the other hand, looks to be having the time of his life, head thrown back to the point of possible pain, and cackling loudly. “Billiam, Sir Billiam, whatever you’d like to call him.” 

Karl thinks for a second, decides to go with the simplest version of the truth he can muster: “I honestly don’t know him. I ended up here by accident.”

James tilts his head towards the laughing man. “Don’t tell me you were looking for the nudist party down the road like Drew, I’m not sure I could bear continuing to talk to you.” James’ tone gets very dramatic towards the end, going up slightly in register and drawing each word out needlessly. It’s probably a ploy to get Karl to laugh, and it works.

“No, don’t worry. I just kind of end up places I need to be sometimes.” 

James tilts his head. “Well then, I thank whatever hand of fate that has guided you here. This party would’ve been the end of me otherwise.” 

“Why’d you come if you…” Halfway through the sentence, Karl’s eyes are pulled away from James,’ instinctively darting towards a loud clanking a few feet to the left. They land upon Lord Sebastian, who’s frantically trying to stand back up now-scattered bottles that’d been sitting in a line on the cabinet behind the bar seconds prior. 

One slips from his fingers. Karl imagines it’s probably because his palms are sweaty, as he seems nervous, and also because he just looks to be the kind of man who has moist hands. Lord Sebastian sweeps his eyes guiltily around the room before landing on Karl’s, who rearranges his fingers into a thumbs up, and gives him a supportive smile.

“Karl?” James queries, reeling Karl’s attention back to him.

“Oh, uh, why’d you come if you- if you knew it was going to be boring?” Karl asks, 

“In the hopes of meeting you, I suppose.” James says, warmly, 

“Me?” Karl squeaks.

“Yes, Karl.” James affirms, squeezing the hand that’s still resting on Karl’s arm as if to punctuate his sentence. That same sly grin from earlier returns to his face. “Would you like to dance with me? I positively  _ adore _ this song.”

Karl tunes into the music that’s been playing softly in the background. From his limited classical music knowledge he can tell it’s a waltz, but not much beyond that. 

“Oh, uh, I can’t dance.” He responds, stuttering slightly. 

“That’s alright, I can teach you. It’s quite simple.” James hops the counter again walking a few paces beyond where he lands, until his back is square against the section of the room that looks to be the best-suited for dancing-- a large, open corner with hardwood floor. Unlike the rest of the room, the only furniture anywhere near it is the gilded bookshelves built into the walls.

James grins at Karl and folds at the waist, bowing his head and offering his hand. Karl sighs and rolls his eyes, but still sets his hand on James’. 

James’ fingers immediately fold around Karl’s, like a venus flytrap, and he tugs him forward and off his chair so quickly that Karl has to concentrate on each step to avoid toppling over.

Despite already feeling out of his depth, there’s a giddiness in Karl’s chest, spreading a smile across his face and bubbling a laugh in his throat as they dash across the room. He feels like a teenager again, all carefree and joy.

He begins to look around the room, but James pulls him in almost immediately, making Karl’s skin buzz with proximity. He gently guides Karl’s left hand to his shoulder and intertwines Karl’s right with his left a little to the side of them. Karl feels a warm weight on his waist, and tenses slightly. James taps his finger against Karl’s back, and Karl relaxes, earning a sweet smile from James. “Just follow my lead.” 

Karl struggles in the beginning, stiff despite James’ soothing advances-- tracing circles across the back of Karl’s hand with his thumb, squeezing his waist as if to say:  _ I’ve got you _ . 

James guides him wordlessly; leading Karl through each song with a ghosting of pressure against his waist or back. The movements, though bursting with just as much tenderness, are dissimilar enough from the touches meant solely to comfort him for Karl to easily differentiate.

As Karl begins to get it, he finds James moving closer to him, close enough to whisper small encouragements in his ear. With anyone else it might feel condescending, but with James it feels natural, genuine. 

“How’d you get so good at this?” Karl asks after a while, deciding that the steps have grown familiar enough that he can push them to the back of his mind and trust that his feet’ll keep moving.

“I was forced to attend a lot of parties when I was younger, to say the least. Sitting next to spreads of food is only interesting for so long, and I actually find dancing to be quite fun.” 

“Gotta say, I think I’m liking the idea of chilling next to the food instead of busting moves right about now.” Karl jokes. James chuckles softly, tightening his grip on Karl slightly, as if to make sure that he was joking, as well as dictating that if he wasn’t, that James would rather he stay. 

Karl taps James’ hand in return, and adds a little extra care to his next few steps. His message must get across because James’ face relaxes, and he brings his head closer to Karl’s.

James’ steady breath drifts its way across Karl’s face like a bank of invisible fog, rolling carelessly. But, instead of frigid water particles, it’s a pulsing heat, humid almost. “How do you feel about trying a spin?”

Karl swallows audibly. “A… spin?”

“Relax, it’s simple. All you have to do is remove your hand from my shoulder, and then I’ll guide you through the turn.”

“Okay, sure. That doesn’t sound too bad.” Karl’s eyes move back to watching his shoes, trying to ingrain the step pattern into his mind further, take a sizzling brand and stamp it onto whatever lobe is responsible for storing memories.

“Hey,” James says, releasing Karl’s hand for a moment to gently push his chin up. “Eyes up. Trust yourself.”

“Yeah.” Karl breathes, chin tingling from where James’d just touched him.

“Ready?” James unlaces their fingers, shifting his hand to wrap fully around Karl’s. Karl nods, feeling his breath stick to the back of his throat. Not stopping, just coming the slightest bit shallower, slower. Changing from water to thick molasses. “On three. One, two, three.” Karl’s fingers slip off of James’ shoulder and the patch of hip bone James has been holding goes cold. 

He closes his eyes, feeling air dance across the bridge of his nose as he spins. After what feels both too short and an eternity, James’ solid grip returns to his side, anchoring Karl in safety again. He blinks open his eyes, finding himself almost nose to nose with James. “See? That wasn’t so bad, right?”

Karl feels a smile tug at his lips, lets it break through. “Yeah, it was kind of fun, actually.” James beams at him, clearly happy that Karl’s finally starting to enjoy something that he loves. He tilts his head at Karl, narrowing his eyes thoughtfully. He’s been doing it all evening, and Karl’s not sure what to make of it. “Why do you keep doing that?” 

“Doing what?” James returns, confusion spattering his tone.

“Looking at me like you’re trying to figure out my face or something.” 

“Was it that obvious? My apologies.” James’ face colors slightly, and his fingers grow warmer in Karl’s hand. “I just- have we really not met before? I feel like I know you.” 

“Sorry, I’ve never seen you before.” Karl shakes his head. James’s shoulders droop a hair in disappointment. “But, hey, we met now! That’s the important part, right?” Karl grins at him.

“That is true.” James laughs quietly. “I suppose that if I had met you before, I wouldn’t have to second-guess myself. I don’t think I would’ve been able to forget someone as remarkable as you. You truly are different from anyone I’ve ever spoken to before, Karl.”

Karl stumbles, caught off-guard by the care that bleeds through James’ words. “Uh, thanks.”

“Of course.” James stops for a beat, allowing Karl to regain his balance. 

They begin again, settling into a more gentle rhythm, moving less distance with each step. Karl feels James pulling him closer again, and doesn’t fight it, melting into the safety that is James, the world contained in his small touches, rough skin. The world that’s Karl’s to explore in this moment, eyes tracing across the visible parts of James’ face, catching on details now that he couldn’t make out earlier, from further away: the faintest scattering of freckles, the flecks of green and brown buried in the blue of his eyes, a small scar cutting across the bottom of his chin.

They continue trading words too, when exchanging breath doesn’t seem to be quite enough to satiate their need to know one another.

James tells him a few stories from his childhood, then a few from more recently-- tales doused with ocean foam and backed by faint rolls of thunder. Karl talks about his friends back home, how things are different there. He’s careful with his words, treading lightly around anything that might sound odd, that doesn’t exist yet.

The room around them begins to fade from Karl’s vision, chattering conversations and curious looks drifting to the periphery of his awareness as his mind is filled solely with James, James, James.

“You’re very handsome, you know.” James says, unprompted, during a lull in their conversation. “I realized that you’d complimented me and I hadn’t said anything in return- not that obligation is driving me to compliment you.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” Karl stutters, angling his head down to try and conceal the furious red that flames across his face.

James laughs lightly and takes a step back, spins him again. “You fluster very easily.”

“Sorry,” Karl apologizes, bring a hand up to fiddle with his mask, slipping a thumb under it to try rubbing away some of the heat.

James smiles gently, chasing Karl’s hand with his own and threading them together again. “Don’t apologize. I find it quite endearing.”

“Oh.” Karl says quietly, feeling like he’s just been punched in the stomach: left aching and breathless. 

He leans forward and noses into James’ shoulder, both for support and to hide the blush that’s still inching incessantly across his face. The fabric of his shirt is softer than Karl anticipated, thinner too. 

After a moment, Karl feels a weight on the side of his head, a steady rush of hot air peppering his ear and can tell that James must’ve leaned his head to press against his.

Karl feels James’ body rise and fall with his. Inhale, feel James’ hand shift from resting on top of his jacket to beneath it, laying flat against Karl’s white, cotton t-shirt. Feel the hesitance in James’ grip, the tension-- fingers hovering. Exhale, nod:  _ yes, yes yes _ .

He lifts the hand on James’ shoulder, gently drags his thumb along the razor-sharp edge of his jawline, almost surprised when it comes away unmarred. He repeats the motion, more confidently this time, before replacing his hand. After a beat, he thinks better of leaving it loitering impersonally on James’ shoulder, instead sliding fingers into his rough curls, gently raking them out of the way until he feels the smooth heat of James’ neck. He sinks his hand against it, draping his arm along the top of James’ shoulder blade to bring them closer.

He feels James smile, the side of his mouth tightening against Karl’s scalp. He sighs, content lacing through each tendon, awareness lighting each part of him touching James-- not in a loud way, not stealing his attention, just gently, just there. 

Standing like this: sealed and signed, enveloped in James. It feels so natural, so  _ right _ .

James finally moves his head after what seems like an eternity, and breaks the silence they’d been swathed in. “Do you…” He starts, quickly trailing off as if he’s second-guessing himself. “Nevermind.”

Karl raises his head, his eyes until they’re staring directly into James’. Not in a harsh way, merely filled with curiosity. “What?” He presses.

James gives him a long look before finally opening his mouth again. “Do you... believe in soulmates?”

Karl completely stops moving after the question’s registered in his mind, silently flitting his gaze from one of James’ eyes to the other. He drops his arm from James’ shoulder, untangles their fingers. A look of distress flashes across James’ face, and he follows suit, releasing any points of contact that remain with Karl.

Right as James looks as if he’s about to step back, clearly thinking he’d been too forward, Karl lifts his hands. He raises them slowly, stops when they’re level with James’ mask. He hooks his thumbs under, fingernails scraping against James’ cheeks as Karl gently guides the feathered mask upwards until it’s resting on top of James’ dark hair. He releases it, moving his hands to cup James’ face, and takes a moment to just stare at him.

The mask hadn’t covered much, not really-- just from above James’ cheekbones to mid-forehead, but it’s still monumental to Karl, monumental in seeing the faint shadows beneath James’ eyes that made him that much more real, human; in the beginnings of crow’s feet that would become more prominent as he grew older, for now only a prediction, a promise; in the small mole that rested just to the side and slightly above his left eye.

After finishing his brief cataloguing and then some, Karl flicks his eyes slowly to James’ lips, back up, down again and up, finally settling on James’ sapphire irises. He tilts his head to the right, a question floating between his lashes. James nods, just barely, chin dipping maybe half a centimeter. 

Karl leans in cautiously, closes his eyes. There is’t very much space between them, so his lips meet James’ almost immediately. They chastely, gently pressing together. It’s meant to be more of an answer than a kiss, a checking of a box:  _ Yes _ , on James’ piece of rumpled, lined paper with  _ Do you believe in soulmates  _ scrawled along the top in splotchy, black ballpoint.

They pull back after a short second, but Karl leans in again almost immediately. A snatching back of the note with the checked box, an addition of a postscript: _ I wouldn’t have marked yes until now, until you.  _

They fall into one another more than anything else, clutching to cheeks and collars, hips like they’re Jack and Rose, sprung fresh off the titanic, except this time there’s nothing to grab onto except one another, and neither is willing to let go. 

Space and time ricochet through Karl’s veins as James kisses him harder and harder, and somehow he knows, be it due to his powers, or something greater, that he was meant to find this person. James-- a stranger who feels like home.

Karl finally pulls back after a few minutes, swollen-lipped and shy. He blushes down at the ground like a middle schooler who’s just been pecked on the cheek by their crush. He feels calluses drag along his skin as James’ hand goes to his cheek, pushing at his face until it’s angled back up. 

James searches his face, parts his oh-so-kissable lips. “Karl, I-” he begins, breathlessly. 

His words cut off in confusion as they’re suddenly plunged into darkness, large windows in the back of the room flooded with fabric, candles seemingly clapped out all at once. Karl reaches out instinctively, determined to keep a hand on James as harried whispers and the rapping of hard shoes against harder floor fills the air around them.

“James, I need you to go hide. Now.” Karl commands. He’s been through this before, knows that sometimes he can change the course of events, save people if it’s a tragedy. He knows that he has to find and vanquish whatever horror is lurking patiently out in the inky blackness, knows that it’s going to be dangerous, that he can’t bring James along if the sailor’s going to survive the night. 

Karl can deal with losing James to leaving. His heart will ache for months, but won’t crack: finding comfort in knowing that James will live out a full life, that he’ll still be out there to return to if Karl ever learns to control his powers. He doesn’t even pause to consider any other possibilities. Nothing is going to go wrong. It can’t. 

“Only if you promise me that I’ll see you again.” James says, firmly enough that Karl knows he’s not saying it just to say it.

“I swear.” Karl responds, immediately. “Now go.”

He feels lips ghost his forehead before he’s drenched in cold and left staring into an empty expanse, alone.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah! Hi! Thank you for reading if you made it this far! I've never written Karlnap before, but this idea wouldn't leave me alone so I thought I might as well give it a try!
> 
> Things'll pick up more in the next bit, which should be out in the next week or two!
> 
> I hope you have a great day/night!


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